The wind howled through the barren landscape as Y/N crouched behind a crumbling wall, heart pounding in rhythm with the distant gunfire. Taskforce 141 was scattered across the area, each member engaged in their respective duties. Y/N, a skilled field medic and the newest member of the elite group, had been thrust into the chaos without much of an introduction.
Captain Price’s gruff voice crackled over the radio. “We’re moving in, Y/N. You stick close to Ghost and don’t take any unnecessary risks.”
Easier said than done, Y/N thought. The mission was already spiraling out of control. Intel had been wrong, and what was supposed to be a low-profile extraction had become a full-blown firefight.
Y/N glanced to the side where Ghost—stoic and silent as always—was keeping watch. His mask concealed most of his face, leaving only his piercing eyes visible. It was those eyes that always unsettled Y/N, though she’d never admit it. They seemed to see through everything, including the façade of calm she desperately clung to.
“Stay down,” Ghost muttered as he fired a round at an approaching enemy. He turned to her for a brief moment. “You alright?”
“Yeah,” Y/N lied, trying to steady her breath. It wasn’t the danger that unnerved her; she was used to chaos. It was the growing tension between her and Ghost that had been gnawing at her for weeks. He was cold, distant, and professional to everyone else, but with her… there was something else. Something unspoken.
More gunfire erupted, and Y/N instinctively dropped lower. “We need to get to Soap,” she said, trying to shake off the thoughts. “He’s pinned down.”
Ghost nodded, and together they moved swiftly across the battlefield, dodging bullets and debris. Y/N’s pulse raced—not from fear, but from the proximity to him. They had been through countless missions, but the walls between them had never come down. Not really.
They found Soap, bleeding but alive, and Y/N quickly went to work. Her hands were steady as she applied pressure to his wound, but her mind was elsewhere. She could feel Ghost’s eyes on her, and for the first time, she couldn’t keep her emotions in check.
"Y/N," Ghost said, his voice low and urgent. "Once we get out of here... we need to talk."
Y/N's heart skipped a beat, but before she could respond, an explosion rocked the ground nearby. Shouts filled the air as the enemy closed in. There was no time for anything else but survival.
They fought their way out, bullets flying, adrenaline pumping, until they finally made it to the evac point. The rest of Taskforce 141 joined them, bloodied but victorious. Price gave them a nod of approval, but Y/N could barely focus. Her mind was on the conversation she knew was coming.
As the dust settled and the night grew still, Ghost approached her. His mask still hid his face, but his eyes... they spoke volumes.
"I can't keep doing this," he said quietly, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it. "Watching you put yourself in danger. I thought I could handle it, but..."
Y/N looked up at him, her heart in her throat. "Ghost—"
"Simon," he interrupted, finally revealing the name behind the mask. "Call me Simon."
For the first time since they met, Y/N saw him as more than the soldier, the legend. She saw the man. Vulnerable, conflicted, and torn between duty and something deeper.
"I care about you, Y/N," Simon admitted, his words raw and unfiltered. "More than I should. But this life… it doesn’t leave room for things like that."
Y/N's breath caught. She had felt it too, that undeniable pull between them, but neither had ever dared to say it. Not until now.
“We make room,” Y/N whispered, her hand reaching for his. “We fight for what matters.”
For a long moment, Simon didn’t move. Then, slowly, his gloved hand took hers, squeezing it tightly.
In the shadows of war, amidst the chaos and violence, they had found something worth fighting for—each other.
And no matter how dangerous the battlefield, neither was willing to let that go.
